Chapter 8
"Ten dollars?" May Kramer was aghast as she faced Tony Lindgren, owner-manager of Willow Branch Motel. "I'm sure there must be some mistake. Wasn't my room paid for last night?"
"Of course." Tony Lindgren crossed both strong arms on his chest and settled on a high stool in the small office compartment. "But if you'll notice the sign, rooms have to be cleared and checked out by Noon of the next day. Otherwise, you're charged for an extra night. I could have rented your room out this morning, but you were fast asleep."
May Kramer felt like collapsing. It was well after two o'clock. She was aware of that. Already, bare legged, willowy creatures were car hopping, escaping the darting hands of bold guys in cars and the taunting jeers of mannish looking girls who travelled in groups or with muscular looking fellows. How could she have overslept? "B-but ... I just don't have the money." It was an awful truth. She ate breakfast that set her back two dollars because she had a ravenous appetite and ordered double portions of whole wheat pancakes and a pitcher (almost) of buttermilk. Her funds were too, too low.
"W-what do I do now?" She was getting desperate again. It appeared as if life was giving her a blow below the belt. No sooner was she out of one scrape, then she was instantly thrust into the next, and none of it was her own fault. "I-mean, the Anders' left so early."
"They checked out around 8 o'clock. Anders? Was that their name?" His sunburned face frowned. "One of these days, we ought to set up some registration system. That way, we'd at least get the license numbers of these people."
Now May Kramer could get the whole picture. Willow Branch Motel was just one of those convenient lovemaking rendezvous places. You paid your money, went into your room with your partner or partners and no questions were asked. Well, if that was how Tony Lindgren ran his business, that was up to him. May should have suspected it when the three of them came in last night and none were asked to sign. In fact, no receipts were given for the money.
"Didn't Louise Anders give you something to pay for my room?" After the experience last night, May felt confident that Louise had left a little spending money.
Tony shook his head. "Nope."
May had a feeling he was lying, but what could she do about it? There was no proof that he had taken money from Louise, on her behalf. "W-what do I do now?" She had a sinking sensation. If she had a car or any means of "escape," she would have taken her suitcase and hightailed it out of her when Tony wasn't looking. But they were in an isolated area, so to speak. Just ten miles from San Francisco-so near and yet so far. The only way to get to the big city was to go on U.S. 101-but you needed a car for that. You couldn't walk it. In fact, you couldn't walk very far no matter how you tried it.
May knew she was trapped.
The way Tony looked her over, made her feel self-conscious. If he had any ideas....
"'Course I could call the state troopers."
"Could you?" she smiled faintly, drawing both legs close so that the silk print dress clung tight to her upper thighs and called attention to the shadowy indentation below. She was already learning "vamp" tricks. "Why don't you? They would be interested in knowing about a motel that doesn't require its guests to register. Also they'd like to know about naked girls and boys who run on your lawn in the middle of the night."
Tony's features stiffened. His dark eyelashes swept over her again. Then he was all smiles again. "No need to do something hasty. I said I 'could' call the troopers, but I wouldn't do that to such a nice girl like yourself. Still, ten dollars is ten dollars."
They were interrupted when the wall phone rang. He answered it. He scowled. "What, again? Now look, we're short of car hop girls as it is. You promised to be here today. You know, a big crowd is heading for Disneyland, coming clear down from Portland, Oregon, and they're travelling through here. A convention, that's right. I need all the help I can get." A pause and Tony sputtered, "Then forget it! You're fired!" He slammed down the receiver and looked angry.
"What's the matter?" asked May, not really concerned but endeavoring to act interested. If she could get on Tony's good side....
"Damn those girls. You'd think they'd show some appreciation for a steady job as car hopping. But no, they meet the first guy and run off with him. She's been sleeping with a dozen men since she started here and keeps promising to work steady but when she finds another rich John, she just gets up and walks away. And I'm short of help, too."
May Kramer glanced through the open door. Outside, in a semi-circle clearing, there were about a dozen cars parked. The doors had small stands upon which was affixed a tray. Leggy blondes and brunettes, wearing wispy play shorts and blouses, with embroidered bolero jackets and red velvet pill box caps, were busy carrying orders from a kitchen to the various cars.
"Does it require much experience to be a car hop?" she asked, speaking quickly for fear she would lose her courage.
"Only experience in talking nice to fresh customers, that's all" Then "Say-are you...?"
"I ... I don't know. I mean, I have to pay the money that I owe you-and I could use a little more." This was crazy. How could she actually go out in public, dressed only in those hip hugging red shorts that were more like ballet briefs, and form fitting blouse, actually letting herself in for a lot of feeling up!
He softened. "You don't have to do it, if you don't want to." He recognized her innocence and felt guilty about taking advantage of it "You can forget the ten dollars. It's little enough."
"But I'm desperate," she confessed. "I haven't got enough money to last me another day. Wouldn't you give me a chance?" Now she was actually pleading with him!
"Sure, sure," he said quickly. "If you want to work as a car hop, I can sure use you. I've got a better idea. You can live here-just move your things over to that little cabin in back of those rose bushes. I use it to store things in, but it's got a nice, comfortable bed and a bathroom-kind of rickety, but it's for free. Meals are on the house. Pay is just $10 a day and you keep all the tips. I don't share in them, like most car hopping joints do."
It sounded reasonable. "But I hardly know anything about waiting on tables-even this type of waiting."
"Nothing to it." He pushed past her, rushed to the door. "Oh Jo-Jo-come here a minute, will you?"
Jo was a leggy brunette, with hair the color of a burnished walnut. Tall, she had high rising breasts that pushed against the white blouse. Her smile brightened her whole face, showing even white teeth. "You call me, Tony?" Jo stared at May, looking at her keenly, as if wanting to see what was beneath her silk print dress.
Something warm and intimate passed between them.
"Yeah, yeah-uh, Jo Laurence, this is ... uh ... he laughed easily. "You know, I never did get your name."
"I'm May Kramer."
"Now that the introductions are made," Tony said quickly, "let's get down to business. Jo, we're short of help and May is short of money. That's a nice situation to be in, isn't it?"
"Depends upon which side of the fence you're on." Jo Laurance spoke in sultry tones, her eyes never leaving May Kramer. Jo's legs were tawny, curvaceous, elegantly slim. Her kneecaps were as soft as marshmallows. The skin tight shorts she wore, rode up high on her slender thighs. The bolero jacket was too short (deliberately so) and her breasts jogged up and down, pushing the opening apart. While her smooth flowing burnished brown hair was distinctly feminine, falling in waves around her soft shoulders, there was something more aggressive about her.
She could have easily passed for a post-adolescent boy, had it not been for her rounded breasts.
"Well, May wants a job as car hop here-so, would you show her where the uniforms are and give her a station?"
"Glad to."
May followed Jo Laurence, her eyes noticing the firm and vigorous movements of her boyish buttocks, tight beneath the red shorts. "Oh, I forgot something." They were already midway down the path leading to a small bungalow in which were kept uniforms and other supplies. It also served as a dressing room for the girls.
"What did you forget?"
"My suitcase." It had everything she owned-which was little enough. "I want to bring it to the cabin over there." She nodded in the direction. "Tony said I'll be staying there; at least, until I can get ahead of myself."
"Don't bother," Jo Laurence said firmly. She yelled out, "Tony-will you bring May's suitcase to the cabin?" It was a husky command like question.
Tony appeared in the doorway of the office. "Sure ... sure...." he yelled back. "I'll take care of it. Hurry up, will you?"
Cars were honking and girls were scurrying to and fro, bearing trays of foods as well as little green slips on which were scribbled orders. Occasionally, a girl could be seen stuffing a slip of paper in her blouse. Undoubtedly, this contained telephone numbers of drivers who wanted a little "after hours" service.
Jo Laurence pushed back her swirling brunette hair; she straightened her sleeveless bolero jacket and deliberately pushed her breasts against her blouse. "New in San Francisco?" She was leading the way to a small bungalow.
"No ... I mean, I've never been to San Francisco. In fact, I was on my way there from home, but I ran short of cash."
Jo pulled open a wooden door. It creaked loudly. From within, two shadowy figures pulled apart. They had been startled by the sudden intrusion. Usually, costumes were put on early in the morning and hardly anyone came in here.
There were two girls; one was masculine looking, with short cut hair, thick arms, broad shoulders and a broad chest that might have had breasts, had she been just a bit more feminine. The other girl was completely feminine, with kewpie doll lips, a peaches and cream heart-shaped face, golden blonde hair and softly rounded hips. Her blouse was unbuttoned and the slopes of the rounded breasts were bare.
"I ... I'm sorry." Joe Laurence felt embarrassed. "Should I have knocked?"
The feminine girl buttoned her blouse. "Well, you should have made some noise or something." Her voice was high-pitched, like a little girl.
The masculine one growled. "Come on, let's get out of here."
They left-one completely feminine, the other one as masculine as possible.
May Kramer looked more embarrassed than the two girls should have been. "I hope we didn't interrupt anything."
Jo Laurence closed the creaky door. "Girls will be boys, or vice-versa, out here on the Coast."
The bungalow was a wooden, frame shack arrangement. It was littered with crates, boxes, cartons. One section was devoted to a huge pole from which was hung more than three dozen costumes-each and every one identical. These were the car hop uniforms and they looked so skimpy, that May felt hesitant. There were qualms about what she was getting into. Maybe she should have accepted Tony Lindgren's suggestion that they forget the bill? But she needed the money. Just a week's work with tips and she could go to San Francisco in style and get a head start on herself. She just had to go through with it.
"How about this uniform?" Jo Laurence stood on her tiptoes to reach for a cap atop a shelf. She was wearing leather thonged skyscraper heeled shoes. As she stretched higher, the muscles of her upper thighs became taut and sleek. Her rounded bottom pressed tight and the mysterious shadow became nakedly obvious. Her legs were naked, as were those of the other girls.
"It looks so small?" she gasped as Jo faced her again, holding out the wine red blouse, shorts and bolero jacket. "Is that all there is to it?"
Jo laughed; it was a deep sound, almost masculine. Yet there was a gentleness about her that gave May Kramer a feeling of contentment. There was no fear. "Well, I'll admit, May, that they are sort of brief, but you have a lovely figure so what's to be so self-conscious about?"
May let her hands run over the soft fabrics. They seemed to be so , ... bare. "It's not that. I've never gone in public in such wispy shorts."
Jo shrugged her shoulders, sending her pointed breasts into a little dance. "Nothing to be shy about. Just pretend you're on the beach. Besides, a car hop girl has to wear skimpy things. Lots of drivers keep coming back here just so they can ogle a girl or get a quick feel."
It embarrassed May to hear such flippant, almost boyish talk. "I don't think I'd like any man to feel me when I'm waiting on him."
A loud honking was followed by a series of shotgun-type blasts. "Some souped up character in a hot rod wants to get his rocks off," she nodded in the general direction. "He comes here every day, keeps ordering hamburgers and strawberry malteds until he would turn green if he ever ate them. But each time he orders, he whispers so I have to bend over-he squeezes me-right here." She patted her bosom. There was nothing surprising about it all. She accepted it. "Sometimes, I even 'forget' to button my blouse, if you know what I mean."
"Then what happens?" She was getting very nervous. Jo Laurence winked. "He gets a real close up feel."
"You let him do that to you?"
Again, the loud staccato type sounds rent the air; it sounded as if the whacky driver was gunning his motor, revving it up for some real action. Jo Laurence's high heeled shoes made a rat-tat-tat sound as she hurried to the wooden door. "Sure-that's how I get a five buck tip in five easy lessons! See you later-" Then, with her bottom jouncing in a rounded arc, she was making her way through the small wooded grove, hurrying to answer the call of some weirdie who liked to touch and stroke and no more.
But, as Jo Laurence reasoned, if he paid for this diversion, why argue? There were lots harder ways to make money!
She decided to hurry up. This was, apparently, a busy time of day and she wanted to express her gratitude to Tony Lindgren for letting her take the job, without an ounce of experience.
Quickly, she slipped out of her silk print dress. The sight of her panty covered figure in a small mirror, sent a tremor through her loins. Her breasts were heavy, swollen with strange desire; after what she went through last night, it was any wonder that she even had feelings left.
Cupping her breasts, she raised them high, stroked the delicate softness beneath, then let them drop down again. They bounced, came to a sloping halt. The tips were conical and moist.
She decided to wear her panties. She could have sworn that Jo Laurence was naked underneath her briefs-laughingly called shorts. How could any girl go out like that? And the way the men put their hands on girls' upper thighs ... they could reach beneath and if a girl was flesh naked-May Kramer decided not to think of such possibilities. She would not let any man take such liberties with her. She reached for her costume, slipped her arms through the sleeveless blouse. It was a pale rose color, buttoning down in front. The buttonholes were unusually large and she knew there would be trouble in keeping herself decently covered.
In a sudden flash of common sense, she knew that the extra-large buttonholes were deliberately made that way! Of all the nerve....
There was no time to be modest. Already, there were yells for "Service, service" and a few "Bring on the girls." This set her heart pounding. She began wondering if she did the right thing....
Quickly, the blouse covered her breasts. In fact, it was so tight, that from a distance it looked as if she were a rose bathed breasty creature. The blouse was like an envelope, tight and enclasping.
She stepped into the shorts. Those rode so high around her crotch, she winced when she felt the bite, as she walked around. Her hips joggled. She ran her hands up and down her upper thighs, then around in rear. It was a mild surprise for her to feel that where her thighs came to a delicious soft crease to form her buttock, she was naked! The shorts were so high, she might as well be wearing a glorified G-string! She felt grateful for the protection of her panties. They were better than nothing.
May then slipped into the bolero jacket, trying to draw it tight over her ballooning breasts. It was no use. She practiced a few walks. In her own high heeled shoes-left by the fleeing Louise Anders together with a box of real silk stockings-she saw the way her hips joggled with each walk. The high heels forced her to walk in a forward gait, her breasts hanging like oversize melons from a bough, moving heavily.
"I should have worn a bra," she glanced at herself in the discolored mirror. It was too late to think of that now. The girl who stared back at her was not a fresh-from-the-farm innocent. With her red lipstick, the dab of rouge on her upper cheeks, the faint scent of cheap toilet water (which flattered May Kramer, even though it was cheap five and dime stuff), she was a long legged, full-breasted car hop.
She smiled, winked at herself, the way Jo Laurence had done it. Then she turned to the door and said aloud, "May Kramer ... let's start car hopping."